Fixing Things
by padfoot's prose
Summary: If this were life life, Lily would have stopped crying by now, and James would be able to fix everything. But it isn't.


**A/N: So it turns out that I'm not always so great at dealing with real life, and that I very often project onto Lily Evans. But I don't think either of those things are surprising.**

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><p><span><strong>Fixing Things<strong>

_by padfoot_

...

Lily was still very much crying when James walked into the otherwise deserted Common Room.

If this hadn't been real life, Lily thought, she would've finished crying by that point. Dramatic timing would usually have placed James' entrance to the scene somewhere much neater than reality did. In a fantasy world, Lily would have just been wiping her cheeks, her face would have been splotchy, but romantically, sweetly so, and her eyes would have been red, but far less bulging and, you know, wet. Unfortunately, the real world was not filled with such good fortune, and James Potter did happen upon Lily Evans mid-cry.

She was really not in a state to be stopped.

Immediately, James ran to the armchair on which Lily was perched, his expression inordinately distressed given that Lily had been rather prone to crying fits lately. Then again, she hadn't yet given him any explanation for this one, so maybe his concern was granted.

"What's happened?" James asked, dropping to his knees, reaching out to cup Lily's cheeks with his hands, "What going on? Lily, are you hurt?"

Lily trembled hopelessly in reply, far too caught up in all her sobbing to put together a cohesive sentence.

"Lily," James said again, his voice increasingly desperate, "Please, please tell me what it is. Do you need to see the matron? Should I get McGonagall?"

Sniffing with much more energy than most girls would in front of their boyfriend, Lily managed to pull herself together for long enough to shake her head.

James concerned expression turned slightly relieved, but his brow was still furrowed as he pressed, "Then what is it, huh? Can I help?"

Lily shook her head again, and sniffed again. She was pretty sure there was already snot on her face but, out of consideration for James, she hoped to prevent any from dripping onto him. Because ew.

"Then what do you want, Lily? Do you want me to go?"

As he spoke, James made to pull away, but Lily quickly shook her head. She reached up to close a hand around one of James's wrists, tugging it back to her cheek. She closed her eyes at the warm weight of it there, leaning into it.

"Okay," James laughed, "I'll stay."

He shuffled around a bit on the floor, trying to move into a more comfortable position. The whole time though, he kept his eyes on Lily, his hand pressed to her cheek. He could feel her hot flush against his palm, the wetness of tears, the way her body was still shuddering.

The silence stretched out between them, only punctuated by Lily's continuing sniffs and sobs, her shaky breaths and loud, wet exhales. She clutched onto James's hand like it was a lifeline, like it was all that was keeping her from collapsing in on herself, falling prey to whatever demons were at work inside her head.

"Do you want to talk about it?" James finally asked.

Lily opened her eyes for a moment – two thin slits of watery red, her beautiful green irises obscured. It was a very clear No, and James heeded it.

"Do you want me to talk about it, then? Because I feel useless if I'm not talking."

In response, Lily let out what might have been a huffing sort of laugh, and her shoulder shuddered up into a shrug.

"Good," James said, "Then I'm going to talk. Can I try and guess what's wrong?"

There was even less of a response to work with this time, as Lily just closed her eyes again and dug her nails into James's palm with how tightly she was holding it to her cheek. But it wasn't in a Please Don't sort of way, so James went on.

"I don't think you're upset because of one certain thing," James guessed, "Because if you were you'd want to talk about it. A bad grade, a bad rumour, bad news – you'd want to get angry and yell at me about it. You always want to yell at me about something."

Lily seemed to almost, sort of laugh again, which James considered to be progress.

"So it must be something general. An existential crisis kind of crying, rather than a 'my dog died' kind. Although it probably doesn't help that your dog did die a few months ago. Sorry for bringing that up."

Cracking open an eye, Lily fixed James with a long look. She sniffed again, pointedly, then closed her eye again.

"But what could this crisis be?" James wondered, "Distress about how everything is changing, perhaps? Worry because we're graduating from school and leaving Hogwarts behind and you don't know where you'll live or who with or what you'll do? And even aside from all that, the world out there is pretty bloody scary, and you don't want to be scared but you are? And you're thinking about how no matter how good all your grades are, what if none of it really prepared you for the world out there, where evil is a real thing that you'll really be fighting every day of your life?

"But, see, I know you wouldn't be worrying about that again, Lily. Because you literally worry about all that every moment of every day, and are honestly the most prepared-for-the-real-world person I know. And I know a lot of people."

Lily opened both eyes this time, and James was surprised to see that her crying had somewhat abated. The hints of her irises were visible: two tiny circles in her eyes that weren't an angry red.

"I'm pretty good at this, aren't I?" James asked, knowing it was rhetorical but silently hoping Lily would answer.

It was unnerving when she didn't talk. For all that he joked about all their conversations being fights, and for all the things he loved about her that weren't her voice, he still loved to hear her talk. He loved to know that whatever was on her mind, she could tell it to him. Like he was a secret diary or a journal, someone who she knew she could pour her most private thoughts out to, without any reserve.

James leaned in closer to Lily. He could see the teardrops that hung suspended on her eyelashes, the sparkling tracks they had traced down her freckled skin. He could feel her little panting breaths against his lips, smell her perfume and her shampoo and the salty tang of tears.

"I wish I could fix it all, Lily. I would fix it all for you. If I could."

Lily blinked, the action slow and deliberate when seen from so close. James tightened his palm around her cheek in a gentle, comforting squeeze. Lily's fingers curled tighter around his wrist in response.

"I love you," James said, "In case that helps."

He leaned in still closer so their noses were touching, their foreheads pressed close, the thin space of air between their lips sacred and shared.

Lily smiled. James could feel it in the curve of her cheek, the movement of her nose, the change in the gap between their mouths.

"I love you, Lily Evans," James said again, "I hope that fixes things a little."


End file.
